


Something To Hold Onto

by woggy



Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: F/M, Love Triangles, M/M, Misses Clause Challenge, POV First Person, Pre-Canon, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woggy/pseuds/woggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In another world, perhaps they would have been allies. In the here and now, though, House L'Envers has no greater rival than one maddeningly competent Siovalese courtier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something To Hold Onto

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tedronai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/gifts).



My name is Isabel L'Envers, and I am undone, at the hands of Anafiel Delaunay. Who else, really? The man has been interfering with my plans for five years. There is no reason at all for today to be any different. 

Perhaps it would have been different, in a history without Edmee de Rocaille. I had no objections to Anafiel at first; a good poet and amusing companion, and certainly with more than his fair share of cleverness. He seemed to make Prince Rolande happy, too. But of course he had to come with an agenda, arguing for his foster sister. House L'Envers was sliding slowly out of royal favor, despite the best efforts of my mother, and with Edmee poised to marry, we were soon to be shut out altogether. There can be only one Dauphine, after all.

That was my rationale. At the time, I didn't understand why it was so important that we stay in favor with House Courcel, only that we did, whatever the cost. In the years since I have sometimes come to wonder whether we were meant to slide ignominiously into oblivion. I must believe that we were not, and yet for all of that it has been a hard road to follow.

I was careful. A single stablehand, a tragic accident. His disappearance was arranged well beforehand, and I ensured that nobody could trace the evidence back to me or my house. Mother may not have explained fully to me why such things were sometimes necessary, but my training in the ways and means was thorough and complete. And yet, somehow, he still knew. A quick glance, a momentary unguarded expression at most, but it was enough.

For a time, I was able to convince myself that it wouldn't matter. I maneuvered into a position to court Prince Rolande myself. I do not claim that it was a love-match, precisely, but I liked him well enough and the feelings seemed reciprocated. Of course, right when I was starting to settle into a routine...

***

"Are you sure we're doing the right thing?" Rolande turned to regard me, an uncharacteristic thoughtfulness in his eyes.

I suppressed a small shiver. Trying to distract him, I made a sweeping gesture to encompass the luxurious bedroom. "You mean this? I'm sure we can consult the _Trois Milles Joies_ if there's some technical aspect that's lacking."

He snorted. "You know that's not what I meant." He ran a hand over my bare shoulder. "This, you, is a joy. I just...is it too soon? I've been thinking about Edmee."

"And who put that thought there? Elua knows I'm not the only one you share your bed with."

He blushed momentarily. "Your point? Nobody else complains, Isabel. Just you. I don't understand why you loathe him so."

And he never would, not really. I summoned up a cheerful smile. "Well, then. Something to improve on, I suppose."

He relaxed then, and winked at me. "Or we could work on the Joies some more."

I laughed and bent over to kiss him. He did have a point, after all.

***

If only it had been able to stay that way. Or, Elua willing, if Anafiel had actually worked with me instead of against. We both saw the desperate need for Rolande to have someone to advise him; for all that Ganelon had arranged for lessons in how to be an effective ruler, Rolande never displayed even the slightest hint of having absorbed any of them. Anafiel and I together would have more than compensated, if I'd been allowed the chance to work with him. Alas, it was not to be, for almost from the moment I started courting Rolande, Anafiel narrowed his focus on me. Whether it was revenge for his sister, protectiveness of his lover, or some unknown third motivation I never did discover, but he was annoyingly persistent. At first it was little things: messages delayed, miscommunications on time and place of meetings. I do not fully know what all he had a hand in, but there were far more mishaps than I had any right to expect during those months. I was determined to fight it as best as I could; it certainly seemed the best course of action at the time.

***

The wedding was everything I'd imagined it to be, and then some. The only imperfection was the sight of Anafiel, staring fixedly at me through the entire ceremony. To his credit, he was unfailingly polite in public company, and though the bards sang of our rivalry they made sure to do it out of earshot of the Palace. After the wedding, though, he vanished outright for near two weeks. Rolande noticed and commented on it to me; for my part I wasn't upset in the slightest. One less thorn in my side, and a persistent one at that. I concentrated my efforts on making friends and influences among the upper circles; without Anafiel to gainsay my motivations things went much more smoothly.

Of course, I should have guessed that it was too good to last. Anafiel returned as abruptly as he had left, appearing unbidden late at night at our quarters. Rolande must have left orders to admit him; anybody else surely would have been at least halted enough to give warning. As it was, all we got was a quiet throat clearing.

"Ah. I'm clearly interrupting. I can come back later." His tone was light, and I daresay anybody else would have taken it as an amusing jest. Rolande certainly did.

"Nonsense. There's plenty of space, here, we can-" He trailed off as he felt me tense up. There was a slight jumble as both Anafiel and I began objecting at the same time.

"I think not, not with-"

"I'm not sure that's the best-"

Rolande looked crestfallen, but a quick glance between us confirmed that we were united in, at least, this one thing. I reached for my gown, and made to retreat to the sitting room.

"It's fine. I'm sure you have lots to...talk about." No doubt I gave too much of my disappointment away with my cool tone, but I was beyond caring.

I meant to ask Rolande what they talked about, but it ended up driven completely out of my mind. Three days later I woke up feeling thoroughly nauseated. When I asked, the doctor regarded me with some small interest.

"And how long has it been since you lit a candle to Eisheth?"

I stared at him. "Two months. You mean..."

He nodded slowly. "From the sound of it, you're about four weeks along. Congratulations."

***

I had thought that pregnancy would bring Rolande and I closer. By all rights it should have; the child was undeniably his. But as the weeks turned into months, it became more and more obvious that he was deliberately distancing himself. What was once a flood of information about his father's court dried to barely a trickle. He wasn't about to stop talking about it completely, of course; Rolande is talented at many things, but untangling the complicated dynamics between the various Houses has never been his forté. He had to be relying on someone to keep the lines of allegiance untangled, but I had effectively been shut out of the loop. I had my suspicions, of course, about who has replaced me as the Dauphin's sounding board, but they weren't confirmed until one evening some three months later, when I returned to the Palace late in the evening.

The sounds of drunken laughter echoed down the hallway, unmistakably masculine. I hurried towards our quarters, filled with mixed dread and anticipation. Here, finally, would be proof. And surely enough, when I threw open the door, there was my husband, fingers curled around a nearly-empty wine goblet. And there was that brilliant and insufferable architect of my slow demise, sitting on my own couch.

"You." The word escaped as barely more than a hiss, but I had no doubt he had heard it.

"Your Highness. Is something wrong? We were not expecting you for another three days." His face was the very picture of innocence.

"And I suppose it was mere chance that you are here, and not in the bedchamber?" I fancied that the fire flickered from the chill emanating from my voice. "Anafiel de Montreve, you are no longer welcome in these chambers. Remove yourself at once."

Rolande's drunken grin faltered; he began to object, but Anafiel had already stood and grabbed his boots.

"As you wish, Your Highness." He bowed, deeply, and was gone in an instant. Every inch the proper courtier, and yet behind the mask of his carefully neutral expression I read every inch of his disdain for me.

***

Some few people dabble in court politics as a means of gaining power. Others for wealth, or to find acceptable marriage prospects. Some for other reasons; Mother never did explain to me why she wanted so strongly to have a L'Envers hand at the wheel of Terre d'Ange's destiny. For myself, the thrill of the game is enough; matching my wits against the best the realm has to offer. Before Anafiel, it had even been fun. I was quickly discovering that it is far less of an entertainment when one is aligned with the losing side.

***

Rolande and I did not share the bed that night, nor any other in the following week. It came as a small but predictable shock when he mentioned having arranged for separate living quarters. I suppose I should have objected more strenuously, but there was little point. I had revealed too much of my hand, and Anafiel was never one to pass up a choice opportunity. If I thought that was the extent of his plans, however, I was soon to be proven thoroughly and completely wrong.

I had been waiting for the bards to get wind of my pregnancy. A royal heir was news, after all, and I had well passed the time when I could have hidden it. On an otherwise unremarkable day some three weeks later, I noticed that a full half of my personal retinue no longer looked me in the eye. I pulled the captain aside.

"Is there a problem, Michel?"

"N-no, Your Highness." His gaze drifted southwards to my navel, though, and I guessed at what was behind the nervousness.

"Let me guess?" I kept my tone light, cheerful. "The bards have been singing about how the joys of Eisheth have been visited upon the royal family. The mills usually run quicker than that; I would have expected poetry last week at the latest."

Far from reassuring him, however, my jovial tone seemed to upset him even more. "No. Well, I mean, Your Highness, they were, for a few days, but we heard a somewhat different tune last night." He swallowed audibly. "A ballad about, well, it was a tragic tale of two lovers, soon to be wed."

"That seems harmless enough," I mused.

"Well, um, Your Highness, there was a third character in the tale. an ambitious rival who arranged for an....accident." He paused, clearly waiting for my reaction.

I steeled my face to careful neutrality. "Did the bard name anyone in this tale?"

"N-no, Your Highness."

Of course not. Actually putting names to the characters, without proof, would have been treason, and Anafiel was too clever for that. Too clever by half. I very nearly panicked, before realizing that Michel was still standing there, nervously awaiting my reaction.

"Thank you for informing me, Michel. You may go." I managed to hold myself together long enough for him to leave my quarters.

***

Which, I believe, brings me back to the beginning of this narrative; I am undone. All of my careful planning and preparations, brought to nothing by that maddeningly perceptive Siovalese courtier. It matters not that there is no proof of my guilt; there is a similar lack of proof to exonerate me. Even if I could produce evidence, in the eyes of the commoners I am already damned. I have been too complacent, and Anafiel has outplayed me once again. I fear this time will be the last.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a reference to the song of the same name by The Wailin' Jennys.
> 
> I've done my best to show a side of Anafiel that canon doesn't, and in order to do so I stooped into some minor vilification. If Isabel's account is unfairly biased, well, I think she has a right to be. Anafiel's account isn't necessarily the whole truth either; I think that, as with many things, the real story is in between. Or both.


End file.
